Charge of the Treadheads
by Ronin201
Summary: While men like Cipher battle for the air over Ustio and Belka, men and women on the ground fight to take and hold land. Among these are the soldiers of the Osean 12th Infantry Division, the spreadhead into Belka's southern lands. Armored warfare Oneshot with OCs. All respective owners retain their respective rights.


**_A/N: As of June 7th, 2016 I've given this a major overhaul after reading further into armored warfare._**

_Charge of the Treadheads_

_May 17, 1995_

_Schayne Plains, Southern Belka_

"Hey El-tee."

Second Lieutenant Christopher Harlen opened his eyes a little before he rolled either way to avoid falling off the turret of his tank. PFC Sandy Curtis, his loader, waited a few seconds before using the man's unofficial title again.

"El-Tee, you told me to wake you up about ten minutes before 0420." He added on the third time.

"That time already?" Chris asked, rolling onto his back. He raised his wristwatch and pressed the light for the screen. It was indeed that aforementioned time.

The auburn-haired tank commander carefully unzipped his sleeping bag and eased out of it, staying low on the turret of the M1A1 Abrams until he was able to get to a box on the left side of the turret. From it he pulled his "Fritz Hat", which he secured to his head. He then maneuvered to the back of the tank and eased down to the rear on the hull, armored vest in his possession. Once he was behind the tank, he slid on the vest and stood up. He then went back up the tank and retrieved his crossdraw holster which had his M9 handgun in it from atop all the gear stuffed in the bustle rack.

From the hull-down position the M1s had to the left of the trees he sprinted behind the heavier woods and took a knee behind a bush. A soft-top HUMVEE came up towards the man, lights on low. Chris turned the flashlight on his vest off and on slowly until the vehicle stopped. He ran forward and got in the back of the machine. The Corporal at the wheel quickly turned around and bounded across the grasslands towards the command post for Charlie Company, 2nd Armored Battalion, 1st Brigade of the Osean 12th Infantry Division. Inside the machine, 2Lt. Seth Uller, 1st Platoon's commander, turned around to greet his friend proper.

"Morning Chrissy, ready to actually move into Belkan territory that's worth a damn?" He asked.

"Finally, I swear after Ustio I'll just be glad to be on some open terrain again instead of clinging to highways." Chris complained.

The slog through Ustio, so far the biggest part of the 12th Infantry's push north, had been shit packed into roughly half a month. The terrain of the country, save for some places (namely around the capital) didn't favor the tactics of divisions that relied on IFVs and tanks. The Osean Airborne and Marines had a field day, though. Now it was once again time to move in large formations of armored vehicles, Chris reckoned.

"Still no artillery?" Jean Horsaw, 3rd platoon's commander, questioned as they passed through some trees.

"I've heard jet noises all night between fits of sleep, so the airdales must be pounding em." Chris offered.

Their destination was hidden in a cleared pocket in the trees they were passing through. An M577 command vehicle, tents and more HUMVEEs of various roles where were Captain Norman LaBelle planned his fights. He was a good CO, a bit of a stiff but at least the squat redheaded had some experience. His tank was also present, nestled to cover against attacks from the direction of Belka. The four platoon commanders under him exited the HUMVEE as it stopped and hurried over to the tent near the M557 and a vanilla M113. Inside the Captain and a few of his aides were gathered around a map of the sector of the plains they were responsible for. The Lieutenants exchanged salutes with the man and took their seats.

"Good morning everyone, I don't have much to say Colonel Serling's sent down orders from battalion; we'll be moving into the attack by 0600. Our objective is to move north and break the first lines of defense that the 33rd Panzers have set up in conjunction with the 41st Panzergrenadiers. It's a simple phase line smash, and we can expect the defenders to be mostly mobile. No bunkers, no concrete fortifications or anything like that. Expect dug-in tanks supported by infantry and in communication with their own fast air and arty." He began.

Chris, notebook and map in hand, multitasked while his CO went over the specifics. The village of Schroeder was to fall into the path of two mechanized infantry platoons they had with them. The battalion's tanks would flank the M2 Bradleys and the riflemen inside and then after escorting them to the village close the gap and form their next line a few miles north. Chris's platoon would be moving out in the open after some more groves of trees; the Belkans had situated the line so that attackers would, at some point, have to move through open farm fields. Fields that could be mined, which Seth seemed to be thinking about too.

"What about mines, sir?" He asked.

"We're going to have artillery prep the area and chew up any mines, and battalion S2 is assuring me the Belkans wouldn't even have enough time to adequately establish minefields. Especially not in farm fields, not unless they want to make that land uninhabitable. We'll have the engineers on standby if we do encounter any hitches, though." LaBelle answered.

The platoons would move in two Echelon Left formations; in Chris's (and 2nd Platoon's) case he'd be just a little ahead of Seth's tanks and on their right. The platoon's themselves would be in Wall Formation so the field of fire in front was even. No one would risk hitting a friend in their platoon.

"So what kind of hardware can we expect the Belkans to use, sir?" 4th platoon's Jodie Wells asked.

"Our scouts report Leopard 2A4s with a few Milan-equipped M113s in support. Further back they said they've noted SA-13s and ZSU-23-4s, which our COLTs will be lasing for a few special fires. Infantry will be expected to be carrying small arms and Panzerfaust 3s." The Captain explained. Chris was glad that the Combat Observation and Lasing Teams would be present. The more accuracy the better.

"Do we know if they have any Hinds out there, sir?" Chris had to ask. The lumbering Yuktobanian-built attack helicopter was the most hated thing a tanker could face. Chris dreaded any time there was a chance he'd see even one.

"Intel passed onto us from the aviation brigade via division S2 confirms they have six operational aircraft. Rest have been hit by helos and fast air. This isn't to say they may not have reinforced." LaBelle informed him. Chris decided to assume the worst and hope their Chaparrals and Vulcans would be able to do something. LaBelle went on.

"On that note, we will have close air support in the form of A-10s and F-16s. One fourship of F-16s, callsign Wyvern 1, will be making a preparatory run against the first enemy line while Wyvern 2 will be on call with Paveways and Mavericks. Four A-10s, callsign Mandrake 3, will be with Wyvern 2 to help. Two FACs, Wildman 7-1 and 7-2, will coordinate with you and the COLTs as targets are spotted. We'll also have a Kiowa hiding in the trees, callsign Foxtrot 5-1. It's gonna stay back until the AAA is out so don't rely too much on it."

In total they'd have eight aircraft, four of which would be the Osean soldier's best friend. The division's Apache helicopters, when inquired about, were going to be hitting Belka further to the west, near the city of Gollënhelm. Questions were asked and answered: where would the COLTs be? Would the scouts be coming back through the lines anytime soon? How soon after stopping or taking the phase line would the tanks be resupplied? A few of the questions had to be given short answers or "I'll inform you all when I get an answer". The push against Belka was imminent.

"Okay then, report back to your platoons and brief them. Sign for our advance after the arty drops will be "Dynamo". Good luck everyone." LaBelle finished.

The lieutenants saluted their superior officer and left the command post. The same HUMVEE was waiting for them to return the soldiers to their tanks. As he was driven back, Chris heard the low screech of jets overhead.

"Those sound like ours?" He asked the others.

"I couldn't tell you." Jean shrugged.

"If they weren't we'd be hearing bombs drop, so I'll assume in the face of no evidence that they are ours." Jodie said.

An explosion as they pulled up to where Chris had been dropped off suggested what might be going on. The commander of Wildman 2 hurried out.

"Kick ass out there, Chrissy!" Sean yelled as the machine hurried off. Chris didn't get to wish the same. He looked towards where his tanks were and began sprinting for his own track…

* * *

It turned out the attack had been in the rear, the brigade headquarters. Chris had no way of knowing what kind of damage had been dealt or what had actually happened, but that didn't matter for better or worse. The artillery was due to start hammering away in about eleven minutes. He'd taken the last watch shift for his tank, Heavy Honey, out of the desire to be ready in case anything went wrong at the last minute.

"Okay everyone, up and at em. On your feet!" He barked through his CVC (Combat Vehicle Crewman) helmet's boom mike.

In the front of the tank driver Private First Class Jeff Saburo jolted into consciousness and blurted out a "yes sir" as he started to crank up the massive tank. Chris looked down at the gunner, Corporal Hue Jonesy, who was sitting at his station with a mostly-eaten MRE (Meal Ready to Eat) in his lap. The man almost knocked it over, barely catching the container before setting it at his feet, out of the way. The man took the meal's dessert before he completely forgot the rest of the item.

"Arm the gun, El-Tee?" He asked. Chris had just finished ordering the other tanks to crank up.

"Yes." Chris asked as he turned his screen to thermal. Curtis already had a Sabot anti-tank round loaded in the 120mm gun. He looked back down as Jonesy's chewing bled onto the comms net a little.

"I swear Jonesy, you get all gassy on us and I'll have Curtis play gunner for a day." The tank commander joked. He turned his head, half a chunk of turkey still protruding from his mouth.

"Eww dons haffua wirri, Bell-C!" He said.

"Didn't your momma ever teach you not to talk with your mouth full?" Sandy retorted as he settled into his seat.

"Didn't you ever learn not to listen all the time?" the smart-assy native of Oured replied.

With his own station full functional, the tank commander stood up in his cupola and checked his M2HB machine gun one last time to make sure it was locked forward for now. He didn't want it moving around while they were on the move. He also checked Sandy's M240 for the same reason, and found both weapons were loaded and ready to be brought to bear in seconds. He dropped back down, closing the hatch behind him completely.

"Okay I'm going to platoon comms, signal me if something happens." Chris announced. He was on the other channel again before the others could acknowledge.

"Wildman 2-1 Actual to All Wildman 2 Victors, report in." Chris demanded. He checked his watch again; artillery started raining in four minutes.

"Wildman 2-2, status green." Staff Sergeant Ethane Qualex reported from his tank, Steam Roller.

"Wildman 2-3, status green." Sergeant Anthony DeLitte spoke up.

"Wildman 2-3, status green." Sergeant Corey Jules said.

Acknowledging their calls, the Lieutenant took the last few minutes he had to observe what was ahead of them. The scouts were now well behind the armored spearhead for their own safety, save for the OH-58 somewhere in the equation. Chris couldn't see much in the way of anything; just dark farmhouses, uninhabited collections of trees, and a few craters from bombs and shells that hadn't found their targets. He slid back down into his tank and buttoned up the hatch. The Lieutenant kept his displays set to thermal even as the dawn was crawling across the world. He checked his watch again before the brigade's artillery swung into action. Two full batteries of M109A5 Paladins and a single battery of M270 MLRS (Multiple Launch Rocket System) laid out their punishment onto the Belkan 33rd Panzers and 41st Panzergrenadiers.

So began the duel of artillery. The Belkans had their own systems, mostly SO-152s and FH70s, interspersed with Mercedes trucks carrying rockets. Chris kept his head as rounds landed near and far. Beyond his attention, grey-colored F-16s from Hampton Air Force Base were racing in from the east, moving across the line. Each of the four jets carried four CBU-87 cluster bombs with a mix of anti-personnel and anti-armor bomblets within. With their single pass came the main event of the day.

"All Wildman Victors, "Dynamo". I repeat, "Dynamo"; cleared to advance." The Captain radioed.

"All Wildman 2 Victors, advance in Wall Formation." Chris radioed.

The other tanks acknowledged and Saburo pushed the tank forward on command. They pressed at a speed that would allow them time to react properly but also kept them from being so slow they were a target. Chris scanned the outside by use of watching what Jonesy saw via a screen at his commander's station and his own periscopes. The artillery died off, it seemed, as the tanks started to pass through the trees forward their last positions. Behind them, HUMVEEs with the COLTs aboard moved along steadily, destined to set up in two groves of trees just short of the open plains. The heavily armored tanks and IFVs pushed on ahead, looking for a fight. Everyone was anxious to get a visual on the Belkans first; the Leopard 2A4 and the M1A1 Abrams were about as close a matchup as you could get. They even used the same main gun, save for some local differences. Chris listened to the radio as he kept watching; it was still quiet. His eyes then spotted a silhouette, boxy in shape.

"Gunner, identify! Leo at our twelve!" Jonesy called. He'd already ranged the Belkan MBT to ensure they could effectively hit it

"Fire!" Chris shouted when he saw the digital number: 3800 meters.

"On the way!" Jonesy punctually replied.

With a squeeze of his right pointer finger, the gunner aboard Heavy Honey sent an armor-piercing round, commonly called "Sabot", at the machine. He'd aimed for the mantle around the gun barrel, one of the weaker points in the Leo 2's armor. Chris ordered them to maneuver as soon as the shot was out, anticipating a shot from the Belkan. The Oseans were spaced out enough that they could maneuver while rolling and not collide. The Leopard 2 suffered a serious hit from the well-aimed shot, mortal Chris assumed when the gun didn't fire a second, corrected shot.

"Good kill, Jonesy." Chris said over the internal comms. Curtis worked the chamber of the gun and loaded a fresh Sabot.

The M1 bounded along like mad for the defensive line; Chris held his breath and waited for something to go wrong…but no mines. He didn't question it and instead kept an eye on his part of the fight. They'd broken their little part in the first line of Leopards…he spotted a flash to his left. Out of habit Jonesy rotated the turret that way so the gun was ready. The Lieutenant bit his lower lip in anticipation.

"…2-3's hit, 2-3's hit, down but non-catastrophic!" DeLitte reported after a burst of static, voice conveying he was dazed.

"Kill that Leo, Jonesy! Fire!" Chris shouted.

"On the way!" Jonesy replied, almost as if he were cursing the Belkan.

As the gun rocked, Chris radioed back that an M88 would be needed on scene soon to help the stranded Abrams. The gun rocked again, revealed to be because Chris's gunner had needed to send a second round out to finish off the tank.

"All Wildman Actuals, this is Foxtrot 5-1, we're settling into position to provide observation, how copy?" a new, unfamiliar voice said. Scattered calls off confirmation echoed back to the pilot over the fighting.

Chris's tanks reached the edge of the field, weaving through the burning hulks of Leopard 2s and a few surrendering Belkans who'd escaped their machines. Several of the tanks and APCs had been caught in an attempt to retreat, burning or now motionless with their back ends to the sky.

"Uh Wildman 6, what should we do about these guys trying to surrender?" Sean asked.

"…Move them on, I'll push forward the engineers to round them up." the Captain replied.

"Wildman 6, should we slow advance to ensure they don't try anything? Please advise." Chris asked.

"Negative, negative; continue advance." LaSalle emphasized.

Chris bit his lip again but didn't protest. Instead he started searching for targets again and spotted several silhouettes in the distances.

"Jonesy, I've got enemy Victors out ahead, can yah see em?" He asked.

"Yes sir, looks like more Leo 2s."

"Okay, engage at will…"

Chris noted there was quite a few, and the remaining M1s in 2nd Platoon wasted no time in firing and maneuvering. The Leos on the move did the same, turning it into a game of chicken. Who could hold their gun on whom the longest before they had to fire; first one to shoot won. It was the consequence of having two so evenly matched tanks, one could conclude. The terrain was so open there was almost no way to hide from anything. Chris watched from his console like it was a videogame of sorts, directing Jonesy where he could onto targets. To his right he spotted the village through the smoke drifting about in the breeze. A ball of flame blossomed up as someone shot an M113 trying to speed out of the village.

The tanks started to slow as they passed the buildings while the M2s stopped just south of it and started responding to muzzle flashes in windows with their 25mm cannons and coaxial machine guns. Chris heard a few faint ricochets as his tank received small arms fire. His concern remained the Leopard 2s; they'd been effectively sent reeling in ten minutes of fighting, but the bastards had bloodied the Oseans' nose well enough. Just about every platoon in the company was down one tank, total loss or no. Chris guided Jonesy onto a Leopard as it backed through a barn, collapsing the structure around it. Several of its brethren had apparently rallied around the facility, hoping to use what little value the buildings had.

"Wildman 2 Actual to Wildman 1, I've spotted several enemy Victors positioning themselves around that farm. I'll flank from the left." He announced.

"Roger that 2 Actual, I've got the right." Seth radioed as Jonesy laid another Sabot into the Leopard that'd collapsed the barn.

Under Chris's orders, the three tanks in his platoon reoriented their fields of fire on the farm, searching for further Leopards. Chris watched as his tank sent two rounds into one of the long, squat buildings, which Jonesy pointed out as having muzzle flashes and a few Panzerfaust rounds coming from it. He switched to High-Explosive Anti-Tank (HEAT) rounds, talking closely with Curtis to make sure rounds weren't wasted on overkill.

"Driver…take us around that building just before the one the gunner hit." Chris ordered.

"Gotcha, sir!" Saburao said, moving the cruising M1 with ease.

"Wildman 2-2, 2-4, flank far of it…put a round each into the structure." The officer went on.

"Wildman 2-2 roger."

"Wildman 2-4 roger."

"Wildman 1 Actual be advised, we're moving to enter the farm from the left, how copy?" Chris added.

"Wildman 1 Actual copies all. I'm chopping one of my tanks to enter from its southeast, 2 Actual." Seth advised back.

The Abrams that led 2nd Platoon turned left, staying close to a steel garage that housed a few tractors. Chris eyed the burning hulk of a Leopard 2 as he spotted more tattered Belkan crewmen fleeing their machines.

"Wildman 1 Actual, tell the tank you sent in with us we've got more POWs." He radioed. Seth replied with a quick "Roger", followed by a report that they'd spotted several Leos in a patch of trees a mile or so north of the farm. Chris decided it was about time CAS started rolling in and kicking some tail.

"Wildman 7, this is Wildman 2 Actual, is Mandrake 4 available to make some runs north of us?" He radioed. There was a brief pause.

"This is 7-1, 2 Actual, what do you need?"

"We've got at least one group of Leo 2s north of Wildman 1 Actual's position."

"Roger, ah, we'll consult with 1 Actual. Anything else?"

"Standby, 7-1."

Chris switched to his internal comms and was interrupted before he could ask.

"Gunner identify! Troops near that fence, our twelve! Possible ATGM teams!" Jonesy shouted.

"Driver, back us up! Gunner, Coax!" Chris ordered.

Jonesy switched to the M240 mounted next to the main gun to spray the troops while Chris deployed smoke to cover them from the Milan teams. They were deployed along what almost seemed like s ort of grape vine, mixed in with shrubs and trees. As they moved into the relative safety towards the center of the farm, he got the range from the gunner and decided a single gun run from an A-10 would do the job. The tanks would be too vulnerable to the missiles until they were gone. That 30mm cannon on the Warthog would chew them up good.

"All Wildman 1 and 2 Victors, avoid the northern farm field! Possible ATGM teams! Wildman 7-1, this Wildman 2 Actual, I have a target for Mandrake 4! Got a lot of infantry north of the farm, possibly with ATGMs! Need a gun run on em!" Chris called, feeling like he was talking to every part of the company at once.

"Roger that, 2 Actual." The FAC he'd been talking to simply replied.

Through several coordination calls, both with the A-10s, the other FAC, and Foxtrot 5-1, Wildman 7-1 stacked up two runs. In the first, Mandrake 4-1 and 4-2 would attack the Leopards with two Maverick runs (one each), and then Mandrake 4-3 would make a single gun run on the troops. Jonesy kept the turret aimed towards the corner of the building they were hiding behind; Chris contemplated going out and manning his M2. He looked through his periscopes and spotted nothing.

"All Wildman 2 Victors, I'm going out to man my Fifty. Watch for shooters." He announced.

"I'll do the same, Actual, give you some cover." Qualax announced.

Chris cautiously opened the hatch and started moving his machine gun to the right, pulling down his goggles as he did so. Part of his reasoning was the possibility that infantrymen with Panzerfaust 3s would try to sneak by in the close-range confusion and hit the tanks in the universal weak spot: the rear. He looked around for places snipers might be, too. He couldn't spot anything, and the higher places, places where snipers would have an advantage, were either exposed or destroyed. Nonetheless he kept his weapon swiveling and watched. His eyes caught something near a flatbed truck and saw a man with a G3A4 trying to take a shot at him.

"Troops in the open, Caliber Fifty!" Chris called.

The M2 made a deep, machine-like thundering as he tore up the front of the BMW and put a handful of holes in the front of the Belkan rifleman. He spotted another man turn a corner with a Panzerfaust. Chris engaged him, too.

"Top, watch it. They're trying to sneak Panzerfausts in close." He radioed. He heard another M2 open up.

"Understood, Actual." The Staff Sergeant replied.

After what seemed like an hour, the Warthogs were making their runs. He watched as the first A-10 eased in, an AGM-65 Maverick separating from its right wing, then another. The A-10 pulled up and two the left, flares arcing down as a precautionary measure. The event repeated itself as the second A-10 screamed in and launched its own Mavericks, the weapons flying down onto the Leopard 2s hidden in the trees. Then the third A-10, "his" airstrike, swooped in and made a quick run with its GAU-8 cannon. Chris heard the unique sound and craned his head to try and see the results. There was even more smoke, now.

"Wildman 2 Actual, Mandrake 4-3 reports good effect on target. Good effect on target." The FAC Chris'd been talking with radioed.

"Thanks Wildman 7-1, same to Mandrake." The Lieutenant replied.

He slapped down on the turret enthusiastically twice and ordered Saburo to move forward slowly. The other tanks in his platoon were also pushed forward to reach the predetermined line they would form. He avoided examining the vineyard closely as they pressed through it, though he muttered an apology to the owners of the place. Seth's platoon was moving to see if they could make use of the trees the Leopard 2s had hidden in. As the tank rolled slowly on, Chris heard something. A fast beating, low in volume put the pitch was high, almost like when a subway or bullet train went through a station.

"Gunner identify! Hinds at our twelve!" Jonesy called.

Chris reacted by swinging his M2 up and waiting for a target. He centered on a shadow as soon as he saw it and started shooting. The whooshes of what he could only assume were anti-tank missiles reached his ears.

"Driver, maneuver!" He demanded.

Chris kept up his fire as they narrowly avoided an AT-6 Spiral, hoping to damage something on the lumbering killer as it came into clear view. He saw it maybe a hundred feet off the ground, pushing confidentially against the Oseans' armored thrust. As soon as he did, the Yuktobanian-built Gatling gun leveled at him and he dropped below, into the turret. The helicopter got off a sporadic burst onto the tank, doing nothing more than shaking up its crew.

"Wildman 1-3 is down, catastrophic hit, catastrophic hit.' Someone radioed. Chris gulped and pulled down the hatch.

"All Wildman 2 Victors, stay buttoned up! Maneuver until we can get help!" Chris ordered.

Chris's platoon was in a bad situation, on open ground near a major enemy force and at the mercy of an unknown number of Hinds. The sound of dirt impacting the machine became almost as constant as rain as the helicopters made another quick run, though it didn't seem like they'd concentrated all the helos against the company. Comfort could be taken in that, at least. Chris waited until he heard the vengeful roar of a GAU-8. He looked up at his hatch and drummed his fingers near its lever impatiently.

"All Wildman Victors, this is Wildman 6, Mandrake Flight is dealing with those Hinds. Proceed to the phase line." LaSalle ordered.

Chris looked forward and ordered his tanks to form into a line and find some good ground to dig into. Just to the north their seemed to be an irrigation canal that offered some cover. Chris chose that for now and started thinking about how to go about defending their position. They were only a few miles into Belka, after all.


End file.
